resolution--the call to action.

There were oars in the boat. I had noticed these dumbly before, but
now I drew them eagerly forth from the bottom, and quickly fitted them
into the oarlocks. They were stout, ashen blades, unusually large for
the craft in which they had been stowed, yet workable. The boat itself
was a mere shell, scarcely capable of sustaining safely more than
three persons, but with lines of speed, its sharp prow cutting the
water like a knife blade. I shipped the useless rudder inboard, and
chose my course from the stars. The north star was completely obscured
by thick clouds, but the great dipper gave me my bearings with
sufficient accuracy. To attain again to the west coast not far from
where the great point projected outward into the Bay, and behind which
the bark swung at anchor, required, according to my understanding of
our present position, that I head the boat toward the southwest. I
bent earnestly to the oars, and the speed of the craft was most
encouraging, especially as my strength and energy seemed to increase
with each stroke. My mind brightened also quite perceptibly, as the
violent exercise sent the blood coursing anew through my veins. Before
I realized the change I had become thoroughly convinced that the
course I had chosen was the wisest one possible.

It was wild, and desperate, to be sure. I was not blind to its danger,
and yet nothing else offered any solution. The only probable chance
now for me to prove of direct service to the captive girl lay in being
near her while she remained with these men. If, by any good fortune,
she had thus far succeeded in escaping from Estada and his gang of
ruffians, I would learn this fact more surely aboard the _Namur_ than
in any other way; and, once assured as to this, could certainly find
some means of early escape from the ship. While, if she was captured